Shut Up, Vanessa Redgrave
by callthemoonbeam
Summary: Sister Julienne tries to remedy the after-effects of the adoption interview. Sister Monica Joan has a word with Patrick.
1. Chapter 1

She had run out of coherent prayer by the time Sister Julienne found her in the frontmost pew of the chapel. Was simply sitting, feeling, eyes closed, when she felt a hand slip into hers. Her brow knit with emotion as they sat together in silence.

"Sister." Shelagh felt herself squirm under the sister's lovingly expectant gaze. "Sister Monica Joan let me in."

"My dear, you are more than welcome here, whenever you wish."

"I don't mean to be a burden on you."

"Shelagh," Sister Julienne said, choosing her words carefully, "there was a time when I sat in this seat and watched you in pain, unable to confide in me. It was an experience I don't wish to repeat. You need not feel obligated, but, should you wish to unburden yourself, I would be grateful if I could be of assistance."

"You've given me so much," said Shelagh. "I'm almost ashamed to be so in need of your comfort. I thought, after everything, that I'd be stronger, or happier than this."

"Everyone is in need of comfort, and love." The familiar touch of Sister Julienne's hand once more, and Shelagh's face crumpled in confusion and self-doubt.

"I worry that my love is not needed, that it has nowhere to go. Or is somehow deficient."

"Oh, Shelagh–"

"In the religious life, I thought I knew what love looked like, but now… the picture is blurred, somehow."

"Do you doubt the path you chose?"

Shelagh fingered her cross. "No. But I do miss the certainty I felt." She felt the stiff fabric of the sister's habit, splayed out over the cool wooden bench. "I love Timothy like a son, but–" A deep breath.

"Last night, Patrick and I were interviewed by the adoption agency, and, though I love him, too, for the first time I'm not sure I know my own husband." Sister Julienne's expression urged her on. "Sister, there are things he kept from me, about his past."

Sister Julienne nodded. "Dr. Turner has lived through much. I'm sure it cannot be easy to bear."

"No," Shelagh pursed her lips, blinking. "But how can I help him? How can we nurture love in our home, if we're closed to one another?"

She fell into the sister's offered arms, inhaling the familiar starchy scent. Sister Julienne glanced skyward, summoning language with which to comfort her friend. "Love can be–complicated, even divine love. And it is not always synonymous with joy." She pulled away to look Shelagh in the eyes. "But I have never questioned the truth of your relationship, or the love that surrounds you both."

Shelagh swiped a handkerchief across her eyes.

"Give yourselves time."

"Yes."

"Your love will find a way ahead," said Sister Julienne, giving her arm a final squeeze and rising from the bench. "In the meantime, you're more than welcome to join us for dinner."

"Thank you, Sister, but I think," Shelagh rose, "I hope, I'll be wanted at home."

Sister Julienne smiled. "I'm sure of it."


	2. Chapter 2

"A dark cloud haunts you today, Dr. Turner," Sister Monica Joan said down her nose as she swept past, wiping biscuit crumbs down her apron. Patrick grunted, hardly looking up from his work. "Sister Evangelina has tasked me with swabbing the countertops, as if I am a mere scullery maid," she sniffed, "but you look in just as much need of brightening as the tiles."

"Do I," Patrick asked drily, yanking the autoclave open so that it clattered against the wall.

"Indeed," she replied, her work at the countertops taking her a little too close to him for comfort. "And I would leave that dark cloud to its own devices were it not for the certainty of its effect on a former sister of mine, whose eternal sunshine need not be dampened by a man such as yourself."

At that, she grasped the box of instruments he was hastily clattering from the autoclave into his medical bag. "Why not let me–"

"Sister, I thank you for your concern, but–"

"I can assist!"

"Sister!"

With a brusque tug, Patrick wrested the box from the elderly nun's surprisingly strong grasp. The clang of metal on tile brought Sister Julienne quickly rustling around the corner.

"Christ!"

"What on earth–"

"How dare he take the name of the Lord in vain!" Sister Monica Joan addressed Sister Julienne, pointing at Dr. Turner like a child who'd just broken their mother's favorite vase. He breathed heavily, clenching his jaw to keep from speaking out of turn.

"I'm sorry, Sisters. I am a little… on edge," he said, recomposing himself, and forced a smile. "Running late, as usual. I'll just resterilize these instruments and then be on my way."

Sister Julienne nodded, though her right eyebrow had been, and remained, ever so slightly raised since entering the room. "Come, Sister," she said gently, leading the other nun by the arm. "I believe Mrs. B has just put a cake into the oven, and finds herself in need of your assistance tidying the bowls."

She returned to the clinical room to find Dr. Turner once again retrieving his instruments from the autoclave.

"Dr. Turner." He had always found the head sister a bit disarming, as if one always ran the risk of falling a step behind in an elaborate joke, and couldn't help but meet her gaze. Her eyes felt as if they went straight through him, and he felt his cheeks warm.

"I apologize, I lost my temper earlier," he said, his hair flopping over his eyes in the steam.

"I find one can come dangerously close in certain encounters with Sister Monica Joan," Sister Julienne laughed. He managed a small smirk.

"Quite."

"Is everything… quite alright with you, Doctor?" He gave her a sideways look, suspecting that whether or not Shelagh had confided in her, Sister Julienne probably knew more about the inside of anyone's thoughts than he did, including his own. Patrick sighed.

"Have you spoken to Shelagh?" The Sister's eyes flickered.

"She mentioned," she spoke slowly, "in passing, that you were to meet with the adoption society. I wondered how that had turned out."

"It didn't," Patrick growled. "They asked too many–" He met Sister Julienne's piercing gaze and the accusatory tension left his shoulders. "They brought up my past, a past that I thought was behind me. That Shelagh has helped me move forward from, and which I don't know if I can share with anyone, let alone her."

Sister Julienne thought for a moment before looking up at him once more. "If your marriage to Shelagh has taught you anything, it must be that she is stronger and more stubborn than any of us could have imagined Sister Bernadette to be."

For the first time that day, Patrick truly smiled. "Yes. She is." He fiddled with the strap on his bag. "I want to give her what she wants–what we both want–but I fear she might not want those things anymore if she knew my history."

"Love rejoices with the truth, Dr. Turner," Sister Julienne concluded, removing the last of his tools from the autoclave and placing them in his open bag. "Many of the residents in Poplar would trust your wife with their lives. I suggest you consider doing the same."

Patrick nodded, hoisting his bag from the counter. "Thank you, Sister."

"Good day, Doctor."

Sister Monica Joan crept into Sister Julienne's office after supper to find her hunched over the desk, at work on a long letter. She set a cup of tea down next to several discarded balls of paper.

"Great is the art of beginning, but greater is the art of ending," quipped the nun, sneaking a chocolate bourbon from the saucer. Sister Julienne smiled thinly, nodding her thanks for the tea.

"Whatever great text upon which you are at work pales in importance to His words," Sister Monica Joan pressed on, "and it will soon be time for Compline."

"Then let us proceed to chapel," Sister Julienne turned, raising the other biscuit to her lips before her Sister could get to it first. "I'll send this letter off in the morning."

Finishing the biscuit, Sister Julienne folded the letter into its envelope, addressed: Church of England Children's Society.

"After his grievous outburst today, I have added Dr. Turner to the prayer list," said Sister Monica Joan haughtily.

"Yes," said Sister Julienne, closing the door behind them. "The Turner family are in all our prayers."

* * *

**Note: Sister J takes words from Corinthians ("Love rejoices with the truth") and Sister MJ from Henry Wadsworth Longfellow ("Great is the art of beginning…")**


End file.
